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Bernard FonlonDr Bernard Fonlon was an extraordinary figure who left a large footprint in Cameroonian intellectual, social and political life.

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The Languor of a Dirge

Reproduced from Cameroon Post, No. 164, May 20, 1993, P. 7

The Mount Mary Maternity Centre is already packed full when I arrive. I'm still wondering where to find a seat when Charles Wirsuiy of The Sketch newspaper walks up to me and asks me to follow him. He leads me to the section reserved for the press not far from the high table.

He motions me to a seat sandwiched between some journalists. One of them vehemently protests that the seat is already taken. Charly says it's okay, I can have it. I sit down and greet my neighbours. One of them answers cheerfully; the fellow who has just objected to my presence merely grunts and buries his nose in his newspaper.

Shortly thereafter, a pretty-looking photographer walks up to us and asks me for her handbag under my seat. So, that’s the story! My sullen neighbour is telling her she has lost her seat to a usurper. What! Me, a usurper! Come-on, man. There’s only usurper in this land; he’s hiding in Etoudi. I can understand your not being happy with me for taking your girl friend’s seat, but that’s no reason to call me a usurper. Even if I had taken the girl herself away from you, you still won’t be right to call me a “baby usurper”; a “baby snatcher” would be more like it; wouldn’t it? Besides, she’s a photographer and should be on her toes, not warming her behind. That is the argument I’m planning to put up in my defence, but my neighbour is not open to dialogue. Instead, he angrily turns his face away from me.

The CRTV Continent

I also decide to ignore him and look for more pleasant faces to pin names on. That’s a whole squad from CRTV over there. Not being near enough to talk to them, I decided to address each of them on mind.“Hi, Adamu Musa! Long time no see. How’s it going? Okay? Good.”
“Oh, hi Emmanuel Wongibe! How are you? Good to see you again. Are you serious, man? You come to Douala and don’t care to come and greet your “Tav-Njong”. What’s wrong with you young Nso fellows of these days? Don’t you know you must give the title-holders and elders of your land the respect due them? Anyway, good to see you again. Haven’t been seeing much of you on our TV screen lately. Probably on suspension, eh? Too bad.”

“Hey, Zac Angafor! Are you serious, man? How come you and I are in Douala together and I don’t see much of you? I don’t even hear you on the air anymore. What’s the matter? Suspended too? Oh boy, what a pity! Mendo Ze seems to take an obscene delight in suspending you journalists from the air and from our TV screen and replacing your faces with his; if his was a face worth looking at! Quelle horreur!”

Is that the elongated form of the Rambler I see at that corner? Yes, indeed, it is. “Hi, Rambler, are you about to ramble from here today? A good place to be in, man. Dr Bole Butake tells me your play, What God has put Asunder, is on stage tonight! I hear it’s quite a good piece of work. Will surely be there to watch it.”

“Hi, Becky Ndive, how are you, Auntie? Why do you call yourself Auntie, anyway? No, you won’t tell me why? Well, that’s all right. Continue the good work you seem to be doing here in Buea. Boy, nice looking lady!”

Who’s that hiding under that Mexican-like hat? Lucas? Oh yes, that’s him. “Come-on; why must you hide your face from your people? Or is it your bald head you’re hiding from us? I don’t believe anyone here means you any harm. We may not always like what you say, or how you say it; and frankly, few of us here like what you say, or how you say it, but we don’t hate you as a person; not at all. So, take off that ridiculous hat from your head and feel at ease with your people. That’s better. Even if your master, Achidi Achu, himself, had come here, no one would’ve done him any harm. Don’t you see our patriarchs, Pa Foncha and Pa Muna, sitting comfortably among their own kind?”“Don’t you agree with me, Peter?” Ladies and gentlemen, Peter Essoka of “English with a difference” fame. “What was someone telling me the other day about your programme, Peter? That you give more time to Francophones than to Anglophones the programme is meant to help? He also claimed you always interrupt people when they’re talking.”“Unfair criticism of your friend, don’t you think so, Julius?” Ladies and gentlemen, Julius Wamey! “Even though you and I have never met each other before, Julius, it’s as if we have always known each other. Of course, your usual tongue-in-cheek remarks on the screen and on the air always go down so well with us, your audience, but, I guess, not so well with your bosses, right?”

And Tav-Njong weeps!

Just then the Conference Chairman, Barrister Elad, is reading his speech and mentions that some among us today had even marched against multi-partyism. I see a finger pointing at someone’s back. Doesn’t that finger resemble Paddy Mbawa’s? Indeed, it is. And that must be Benjamin Itoe’s back he’s pointing at! Oh, yes, it is! “Come-on, Paddy, you mustn’t poke such fun at Benjy’s back”.“And Benjy, tell me, why aren’t you sitting up there with Elad, Anyangwe and Munzu? Why are you hiding here? I know what you’re going to say; that it’s your right to sit where you like, and you’ll of course, be right. Isn’t this a democracy? What does your boss call it? A “démocratie avancée”? How our brilliant “Man-Lion” alias “Lion-Man” makes the definition of that word, democracy, as bequeathed to humanity by the Greeks of old, look so puerile, indeed!
It’s Simon Munzu’s turn to read his keynote speech. A few minutes into it, he invites the Mamfe Choir to invoke the presence among us of the departed heroes of the Anglophone people. Boy, emotions that have been floating in the air ever since Pastor Ayuk moved many to tears with a heart-stirring opening prayer, are now so thick you can just reach out and grab them with your bare hands, or cut them clean with a knife! Now, the Mamfe Choir has the floor.
Wow! What a song! A gentle, sad, languorous sobbing of a dirge.
Sadness grips the hall. Throats are being cleared with difficulty as lumps start to crawl up many throats, and before long hands are rushing into pockets and handkerchiefs are popping out and heading for tear-spangled eyes and clogged nostrils.
What’s this on my cheeks? No, it can’t be tears! Who’s ever heard of such a ridiculous thing? A “Tav-Njong”, a ferocious warrior of the Nso people, in tears! Worse of all in front of women! No, what I fell so warm on my cheeks can’t be tears at all. It must be something else. But what? Oh no, it’s indeed tears! I too reach for my handkerchief.
Yes, on the morning of April 2, 1993, as the Mamfe Choir is invoking the presence among us of our fallen leaders, I, “Tav-Njong”, a dreaded warrior of the Nso people, weep for my suffering people. Let the history of Southern Cameroons have that simple fact on record for posterity.

Comments

Fact of the matter is that the story of the Struggle (Kampf) of the Anglophone in this land must be told to the younger generation and when Mr Biya is so eager to get reelected as President of the Republic of Cameroon once again, serious thought should go into the implementation of The Buea Declaration and Institution of
The Federal Republic of Cameroon as it should have been.

Like I said above, it is high time we come to our senses in this nation and region of ours rather than hoping against hope that the "confused" chinks will come to our rescue when the ship and lifeboats are all destroyed.

Today marks the tenth anniversary of the day that changed the World.
I am happy that George Walker Bush rose up to the challenge and that his able Sec. of Defense was by him in that most confused period. Today the dictators are quaking and confused asking themselves " who will be the next '. Three cheers to Bush, two to Obama and One for his republican challenger.

The rouble people should not rubbish such a great deterrent from being implemented. As a matter of fact if stealth is used then they need not be burdened with the knowledge of its effective activation - afterball the neo bullies on the block are the chinks and not the v p fellow.

Tears mixed with ecstasy animate me as I read this beautiful work. My regards to the patriots. The struggle continues …. God is watching and we will give account to generations to come that once upon a time, and a nice time it was, this land had heroes with big heads, mighty pens, foresight, and calm and focused.

Thank you for sharing this important piece of history on the eve of 56th anniversay of the plebiscite of 11th February 1961. Just like was the case in 1993, we are at yet another crossroad. What did we get wrong almost a quarter of a century ago and what lessons have we learned from our mistakes? I do not see as much "grey hair" in today's Anglophone struggle like was the case in 1993. The older generations decades old experience is an invaluable asset that must not be ignored. Just thinking aloud.
Bennett G Mbinkar Esq.

I, too, was there! In the present resurgence, those of us who were there at Mount Mary Maternity, Buea, 1993, and still surviving, have failed to impress it sufficiently on our young dynamic leaders the following lessons:
1. Our struggle for restoration may never succeed as long as Biya is alive and in charge because he is the chief conceptual master and architect of assimilation
2. The greatest clog on our wheels towards freedom are appointment holders and aspirants amongst us
3. Never 'shege' the crocodile while you are still in the water
4. Infinite patience and commitment are indispensable for the force of argument eventually to triumph over the argument of force.